Election Night
by miladyswords
Summary: Phoebe, not accustomed to deluding herself, hugged her knees closer to her chest, leaning into her husband's arm. She knew exactly how this night was going to end, but had no idea what the future would bring. Thoughts and feelings after 2016 election. Read if you want to hear a young liberal woman's perspective/experience. Ignore if you don't. M for curse words and serious themes
1. Election Day

As the night was winding down and the results were becoming increasingly obvious, Phoebe had to fight back the tears prickling at her eyes.

" How the fuck is this happening?"

She turned to look at Helga, whose breathy whisper somehow managed to break through the sound of hard rain pummeling against the boarding house's windows, startling the others in the room - had they always been sitting this close? The light from Helga's laptop illuminated her tear stained face as she bit down on her lower lip letting out a quiet groan. Pushing her laptop away she wiped at her tears with one clenched fist, her other hand resting on her expanded belly as she began repeating her question over and over under her breath. Phoebe watched in silence as Arnold placed his hand over his wife's knee, squeezing it in soft encouragement.

"Don't give up hope. Things can still change." came Arnold's quiet appeal, but it was obvious from the strain in his voice, his half-hearted smile and the dull look in his eyes that he was also struggling to hold on to hope.

Phoebe, not accustomed to deluding herself, hugged her knees closer to her chest, leaning into her husband's arm. She knew exactly how this night was going to end, but had no idea what the future would bring.

* * *

It had been raining all day and the soft pit pattering sound of raindrops on the eaves of Arnold's window was doing wonders to sooth his office weary soul. Putting down the paperwork for his next project, he looked down at his watch to see that there were only ten minutes left until noon. Leaning back in his chair, he loosened his tie and stared absentmindedly out of the window.

The sky in Hillwood was as dull a grey as it had been all weekend, but Arnold was happy to see its streets brightened by the colorful umbrellas of its residents. He let his gaze wander for a few minutes before it caught on a child holding a bright pink umbrella. He smiled as he watched her jog down the street pulling along a woman he could only assume was her mother. Suddenly he felt hope for the future well up in his chest. Gathering his jacket and umbrella, he quickly shut down his computer, grabbed his bag and headed out of the door.

As a result of new "voter suppression laws" (as Helga liked to call them), Arnold could not vote early and instead had to ask his boss for a half-a-day work schedule in order to make it to the polls in time. Although he was not overly excited about a Clinton presidency - preferring Bernie's message of promoting democratic socialism over what he considered would be a continuation of the status quo - he thought about what having a female president would mean for his still unborn baby girl - she could be anything!

Arnold took long strides as he bounced towards P.S. 118, his thoughts of the future slowly turning to happy memories of days long gone. He was excited that he would be seeing most of his elementary school friends later that evening.

It was Helga's idea to hold an election party. As an avid Clinton supporter and feminist, she was happy that it was finally happening - the first female president, and against an alleged sexual predator nonetheless. Arnold couldn't help but agree to the arrangement. As a couple, they had been preoccupied with preparing for the arrival of their first child, and the election party would be a great way to share a warm night with friends they hadn't found time for in the past couple of weeks.

It had shocked him when he received Stinky and Sid's text messages two days earlier, refusing the invitation on the grounds that they were not supporting Hillary, but would instead be supporting Trump. He had tried calling them back, to open a dialogue, but found himself increasingly frustrated by their insistence that Trump would be good for the economy. He understood that they were struggling financially, and that they were upset with the system, but to vote for Trump who by all means aligned himself with racists and bigots was beyond flabbergasting.

During the conversation he tried asking them to identify which policies they thought would be beneficial in the hopes of understanding what they were thinking and convincing them that Trump would be the wrong choice. Disappointingly, all he got were SoundBits on ISIS, immigrants and TPP. When he pushed them further, reminding them that Trump had made racist, hurtful and threatening comments about people who their friends identified with, they informed him that the liberal media had him fooled and refused to continue the conversation, hanging up abruptly. He slowly rubbed his temples as he made his way to the polling lines sighing deeply when he remembered what happened later that night after telling Gerald.

* * *

The lines had been incredibly long at P.S. 118 as Hillwood was forced to close 5 polling sites after the last election, but Helga was happy for her chance to perform her civic duty in electing the first woman president. She whistled on her way home swinging her pink umbrella in her hand. The sun had somehow managed to peak out, and the warmth of its rays had begun drying the small puddles riddling the sidewalks. As she drew closer to the boarding house, Helga's lips tugged into a soft smile remembering the conversation a group of elderly women were having behind her on the polling line. She broke out into a full-blown grin when she thought of the elderly gentleman who accompanied them and who had seemed just as excited by the prospect of electing a female president.

As Helga turned the corner onto her street, she saw a group of three young men following a young black woman down the block. The catcalling grew louder as the young woman's steps grew quicker and the group of young people drew closer. Helga let her lips draw down into her signature frown as she drew herself up to her full height, placing one hand on her hip.

"Hey why don't you young chuckleheads make like cats and scram. Don't you know what your doing is sexual harassment?" The young men stopped abruptly, raising their weary gazes to meet Helga's firm glare.

"We were just telling her she should smile a bit more. Mind your own business lady. Shouldn't you be at home resting anyway?"

"Listen buck-o, she doesn't need to smile if she doesn't want to. Her grandpa could have died. She could have lost her job. She could have had a shit day. Her face could just be that way, or maybe she is just trying to avoid being harassed by some pre-pubescent clowns. I'll put it simply so even you dunderheads can understand. You - are making her - feel - unsafe, so go - away! Capiche?"

"Man lady, you are really barking up the wrong tree. Do you know who we are?" came the young man in the center's nasally reply. Helga's eyebrow rose in shock as he boldly took a step forward, giving the other two the courage to follow.

Not one to shy away from a confrontation, Helga stepped forward as well, now towering over the young men. She began making mental notes, sure to memorize the details of their pubescent faces just in case. With all that acne, and with such pathetic excuses for mustaches, there was no way they were more than 15 years old.

"'Does she care who you are?' is a better question." Helga grinned as she recognized the voice behind her and instantly took comfort in the hand that was now resting on her shoulder. "Let me think, hmm I am pretty sure the answer is no. Now be a good group of young men and heed this ladies advice. Ya'll ain't never gonna find a girlfriend if ya keep harassing people down the street, so go home, do your homework and get an education."

Gerald's tall athletic build, accompanied by the reappearance of Helga's fierce glare, intimidated the teens into submission. Muttering a few choice words under their breath, they left without so much as a protest.

"Thank you guys so much. They were following me for three blocks and to be honest, it was starting to piss me off." The young woman grabbed Helga's hand, pressing it firmly before letting it go to look up at Gerald, her eyes lighting up as her gazed lingered on his face.

"Don't worry about it. Just do us all a favor and get home safely" Gerald replied with a wink.

Blushing lightly the young woman opened her mouth to reply, but closed it abruptly when she noticed the ring on his finger. "Well, thanks again. I have to get going. Take care!" Helga watched the young woman round the corner yelling out a "Go Vote" before sharply elbowing Gerald in the ribs.

"Ow, what the hell was that for?"

"You better be careful Mr. playboy." Helga began as she once again started walking towards the stoop of the boarding house, Gerald jogging to keep up. "I saw that wink you gave her. You wouldn't want our dear Phoebe to hear about your escapades would you?" Gerald guffawed as they climbed the steps of the boarding house rolling his eyes at Helga's insinuations. When she reached for her pocket he grabbed her by the hand, turning her to face him.

"Me be careful? Look who's talking Mrs. 6 months pregnant. You know, you really shouldn't be picking fights with kids, especially with baby Arnold in there. " Placing a hand on Helga's stomach he began to coo, "Don't worry baby Arnold. Godfather Uncle Gerald will protect you." Helga began to giggle as she slapped his hand away.

"Hey, hey hey! Hands off the merchandise." Pulling out her keys from her pocket she began to open the front door. "We don't need your protection, and I told you already Gerald-o, it's a girl!"

"Yeah, Yeah, whatever you say."

* * *

Author's Note: Of course Hey Arnold isn't mine, though I love it's characters. Maybe this is just coming from my inner city child perspective, but I have always thought of Hey Arnold as a story about kids in the inner city. Growing up in New York, that means diversity to me. I imagine that most of the characters have very liberal views as do most millennials, so I wanted to try and have them have some of the same concerns and conversations as people I know. This election has been really hard on the people I know. If you are a Trump supporter, I hope that this fic will help you understand the perspective of the people I know, and I encourage you maybe to take some of the characters and have them take on your perspective. Or not. Maybe politics don't belong in fics, but I don't know. I think it's important. If you are going to criticise, please do so constructively. I know my writing needs a lot of work. I definitely don't feel like I am telling the story the way I would like, but I think it is a story that needs to be told. In any case... thanks for reading?

Also, can someone tell me if I am allowed to use politicians names. I mean they aren't non-historical I am breaking a rule, please let me know.


	2. Nur's fear and Genie's pain

Trigger Warning: Deals with the struggles of transitioning, homophobia and islamaphobia to varying degrees

* * *

Genie arrived at the party promptly at 7. It had been a while since she had seen everyone, but she was excited for the small reunion. She had drifted apart from the gang during her college years, but reconnected with them shortly after - during her transition. It had been incredibly hard to explain to her family what it was to feel like you were given the wrong body and had been living years trying to be someone you were not. It had been exhausting and she had been at her breaking point when Gerald found her by the docks.

Her family had just rejected her outright, and she had nowhere to go and hadn't known whom to turn to. It was Gerald who suggested she turned to Arnold, who had just inherited his grandparents' boarding house. During Genie's darkest hours, it was the newly wedded couple who had taken her in, listened to her, and helped her find the resources she needed to begin her transition. She didn't know if she would be here without all of their support and she was incredibly grateful. Staring at the door, a wave of nostalgia hit her and tears began to overwhelm her as she rubbed furiously at her eyes.

"Hello Genie, do you plan on knocking any time soon or do you need my help to do it?" Genie blushed furiously as Nur's teasing voice reached her ears. She turned abruptly so that she was standing face to face with Helga's coworker, hands fidgeting behind her back as she did her best to speak normally. "No, no. I can do it!"

"Inshallah, you'll do it today." Nur replied, giggling as she began adjusting her hijab. Genie quickly knocked, muttering incoherently about how nice it was that the rain had stopped a few hours earlier. She was thankful when Phoebe finally opened the door and welcomed them inside. Understanding her own luck, she wouldn't be surprised if the butterflies in her stomach burst forth like the baby alien in 'Aliens'. She needed to recollect herself.

* * *

The group of friend's spent the beginning half of the night enjoyably. Esperanza, Harold's five-month long girlfriend, arrived earlier in the evening to help Gerald and Helga in the kitchen. Together they made an assemblage of dishes including arroz con pollo, mac and cheese, quinoa (Gerald's specialty), a lemon cheesecake with raisins, and flan. Harold himself had brought a rump roast from the butcher's shop, Rhonda some really expensive wine, Nadine crackers, Curly ingredients for smores and Sheena some cheese she bought at the cheese festival two weeks earlier. Even though she had voted for the Green Party, Sheena had no delusions of a Jill Stein victory and didn't mind spending the night playing the board games Genie and Nur had brought. When Arnold finally arrived, the party really started, and the melody of music, laughter, bickering, teasing and conversation all mixed to form a cacophony that drowned out the sound of raindrops once again beginning their assault on the buildings of Hillwood.

As the night progressed, the group began to settle down to watch the results of the election. They turned off the lights of the living room and brought out bowls of popcorn, as well as the cheese, crackers and wine; Arnold spending another half an hour in the kitchen making smores by the electric stove with Helga going in between rooms to deliver them.

Chat had remained amiable until the results from Florida came in and questions on how Pennsylvania would vote were being raised. Nur could feel her chest tighten as Helga opened her laptop to refresh the NY Times page. She readjusted her hijab twice while listening to the pundits on CNN. Tears began to well up in her eyes, her mouth growing dry as she clutched at her phone, looking down several times to see if she had received any text messages. When an argument erupted between Rhonda and Sheena regarding the question on whether third party voters were to blame for the loss of the 'Sunshine State', Nur excused herself to use the bathroom.

Although Arnold had tried to quell the argument, it escalated when Nadine entered the argument on behalf of Rhonda and Curly on the side of Sheena. Genie had sat watching as the situation devolved and quietly excused herself to check on Nur who had been gone for 15 minutes. Exiting the living room, Genie headed upstairs towards the bathroom hearing the sniffles just as her knuckles were about to meet the door.

"Aba, please tell me this isn't happening. He's going to win this election. Pennsylvania is going to go to Trump and then he only needs 6 votes and he already has Wisconsin in the bag. How can people have so much hate? " Nur sat on the edge of the bathtub and used her left hand to hug herself tightly. " Aba, he can't possibly win can he?" But even as she asked the question to her father, she knew none of his assurances would convince her to ignore reality. She knew better. He couldn't protect her from this. He couldn't protect them from what was coming next.

Nur found herself struggling to breathe. She just wanted to be home, with the people who loved her. She wanted one more night of feeling safe with her family before the inevitable. Tears flowed freely down her face as she struggled to control her voice. Here it was again, the fear of being hated in America. She couldn't take it. "Aba, please come pick me up. I want to go home."

After hanging up with her father, Nur took a cursory look at herself in the mirror. Her large deep-set eyes were red, her skin blotchy and her hijab was in disarray. She carefully removed the pins holding her hijab in place letting free her thick, curly brown hair, taking the time to stare carefully at her own reflection. She had always hated her high-bridged nose for being so conspicuous and getting her teased when she was younger. In general, she had had a severe dislike for her face because of childhood bullies. It was only when she began growing into her high cheekbones, wide mouth and sharp eyebrows that she started to feel comfortable in her own caramel skin. But even now, there were things about herself she thought unattractive. In particular, she thought her chin was weak and often looked down to hide it. Because of this habit, people always mistook her as demure and submissive, but she had a fiery spirit, especially when she got to speaking in her native tongue.

She looked down at the cloth clutched in her perfectly manicured hands, and thought about all that the hijab meant to her. As a muslim woman, she took pride in her faith and in her submission to Allah. Would she have to hide her love for her God for her own safety? The thought of being unable to wear the hijab suffocated her and a strangled cry escaped her throat as she once again began to cry. In her distress she failed to hear the soft knocks at the door and the turning of the bathroom knob.

The creak of the floorboard startled Nur and she spun around instantly, drawing her hijab up to cover her hair. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice cracking as she hastily tried to pin things back in place. Genie stared abashedly at Nur's beautiful curly hair before catching the look of desperation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I was worried and came to look for you. I heard you crying. Here let me help you with that." As Genie took a step forward, Nur took a step back, knocking into the sink and causing a few of Arnold's hygienic products to hit the porcelain with a clatter.

"No, wait. You shouldn't see me like this." A deafening silence permeated the room and Nur knew at once what she had done. "I am sorry Genie, I didn't mean it like that. I know you want to be a girl, I just…"

"I don't want to be a girl Nur." Genie couldn't believe how quickly her body resorted to tears and thought perhaps it was the fault of the hormones. "I am a girl! I am a girl who likes other girls. I thought you understood and were okay with that."

"I do understand, I am sorry. I misspoke. It's just, everything is so confusing and scary right now. I know you are a girl, I do. And I know you like girls. And I am perfectly okay with that as long as you don't like me. But with everything that is happening tonight…"

Genie felt like she had been punched in the gut as soon as she heard the words 'as long as you don't like me' escape Nur's mouth. She knew it would be impossible for Nur to fall in love with her, but somewhere she had always held on to the hope that maybe, if they hung out, if they got to know each other better, there would be a chance. Genie could feel the bile rise in her throat as she pushed past Nur towards the toilet. Using all of her faculties Genie tuned out the world to focus on her breath. Downstairs was a disaster and she didn't want to make upstairs one as well. Yes she was heartbroken, just as much so as when Sheena rejected her, but there were other fish in the sea. As long as she had her rights, she'd be okay.

"Oh Genie, sweetie, I am sorry. I know this must be just as scary for you as it is for me. Mike Pence as a vice president must be terrifying for you. I mean, to believe in conversion therapy is just ridiculous."

At that moment, while listening to Nur ramble on about what this election would mean for them, reality struck Genie the way her father had when she spoke about wanting to transition. She spent the next 3 minutes emptying her stomach of the delicious meal she had enjoyed earlier.

* * *

Author's note: This election has been really hard on me and a lot of my friends. There are a lot of emotions I want to express, and I am trying my best to do so without creating a caricature of anyone. People are complex. In some ways, I am really unsatisfied with my writing. I hope it portrays everything I want it to portray. Their is a lot to be said. I don't want to paint a hopeless picture for those in marginalised communities, because I think their is hope (I want to stand by you), but I did want to portray the hopelessness that I felt. I really called my father as the election results were coming in. I was desperate for some reassurance. I don't know. Like I said, it's complex. I hope people don't decry this as a winey millennial. I just wanted to put out my perspective in the hopes of comforting others, but also in the hopes of helping others understand why is it that people feel so threatened.


End file.
